


kiss me full of ghosts

by ultraviolence



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Prototype: Fragments of Sky Silver, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arthur has more issues than Vogue, Big Brain Time, Blow Jobs, Camelot spoilers, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, Lancer Arthur, Light Bondage, M/M, Protofragments Spoilers, Shower Sex, Surprise Fluff, everyone has to suffer along with me, kind of a character study also, now that i am cursed with the inability to write mindless porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: Chaldea may have held a lot of interesting things to a newly-summoned Lucius Tiberius, but one particular curiosity is harder to resist above all, when they accidentally ran into each other in the hallways, one fateful day. A lot of interesting things ensues. Oneshot, AU.





	kiss me full of ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended to write something else and take a short break from this ship to write other things (lol), but my brain said it's big brain time, and what was originally intended to be mindless porn with a smidge of feelings turned into...whatever this monster is. I'm not sorry at all, especially since when I was writing this a couple of days back, I finally got Bunnytoria with my last 3 quartz in JP (after 96 quartz & 5 tix). 
> 
> For the record, there will only be minor spoilers, I think, but just in case.
> 
> Enjoy!

Time seemed to exist in a suspended state, in the space between his materialisation in the strange new place and the void that was there before everything, before there was something. 

Chaldea was the name of the place.

It’s so strange, to be temporarily alive again, to be able to breathe and talk and fight again, even as a ghost, no, not even a ghost, but a phantom of someone who used to be alive once, an image superimposed on an old, weathered photograph, straddling the thin line between history and legend.

He had not yet form a complete opinion of his supposed Master—an unremarkable-looking boy whose bright blue eyes told him that he wasn’t as inexperienced as he seems—but, he was feeling somewhat gracious, and something tells him that there are many interesting things awaiting him in this Chaldea, so the emperor, summoned as a Saber, pledged to him his sword and to help him on his cause.

That was a couple of days ago.

His Master told him that he’ll get used to everything—with a knowing smile, and he supposed it was something that he’d told everyone else when they first arrived in the summoning room, no matter who they are, ruler, warrior, inventor, antihero, or something else entirely—though he thinks he rather failed to take into account on the noise, the number of other kings and emperors involved, and just the sheer _amount_ of Heroic Spirits around the place. 

He was right on Chaldea being an interesting place. So far, he’d met two other Roman Emperors, the divine Founding Father himself (they all threw him a welcome party, which he supposed was alright until the King of Heroes crashed it), Chaldea’s various human staff (who seemed to be quite unimpressed since they were used to all sorts of kings and emperors by now), the purple-haired Demi-Servant who always tagged along with her Master, and the famous inventor and universal genius, Da Vinci themselves (in her own words, verbatim). 

Of course, there are several other Servants too, and the curious, fluffy beast that seemed to always be either with his Master or the Demi-Servant, but those were the ones that he thought was worth mentioning.

It was all so very colourful and interesting, but so far, there is one particular king who is missing from the list, despite the fact that he had more than several versions of him running around, according to the other Servants. The King of Heroes mentions something about a she, and that stoked his curiosity.

He was bored that day, with nothing in particular to do, and he thought that perhaps he is going to pay his fellow Roman Emperors a visit, and see what they were up to. The hallways were curiously empty at this hour, the dead hour after lunch yet before late afternoon, and it did nothing to alleviate his boredom. It doesn’t help that it is almost always snowing whenever he looked outside a window.

Chaldea’s corridors even looked the same in this situation, the same old white, sterile hallways with identical sliding doors. Lucius Tiberius trudged through the hallways, hoping to run into something interesting, and then…there it is.

Perhaps it was mere coincidence, and the encounter was inevitable anyway, all things considered, but he’d like to think that fate had a hand on it. 

He was heading his way, about to continue straight on, but there’s a branch off the path, and that’s where _he_ appeared from, standing in his way.

A fair and reasonable amount of awkward, tense silence cropped up instantly between them, which is to be expected, and they each sized the other up in this silence.

It was him alright, there was no mistaking the fair, golden hair, the clear, green eyes, and the way he carries himself, the bearing of a hero, though his hair is slightly longer now, framing his face, and he was a little taller than he used to be: they were on eye level now.

There is also a more mature, kingly air about him—the red, voluminous cape that falls dramatically from his shoulders and the golden crown encircling his brow certainly had a hand in strengthening that quality, but even without those, he was certain that the other man would still have the same air—yet there is an aloof, reserved look to his green eyes, though the determination that he knew was still there underneath the surface.

This was Arthur, but not the one he once knew.

“Well, I suppose this was inevitable,” the other man said first, breaking the silence, his tone dry, uninterested. “Though apparently, all the efforts we put into staying out of your way was all for naught, since I ran into you like this.”

“What efforts?” Lucius said, trying to suppress an amused smile and failed. “Don’t tell me you—_all_ of you—had been intentionally avoiding me the moment I arrived? That certainly explains things.”

“We- _I_ haven’t been avoiding you,” Arthur countered, with a healthy amount of familiar disdain thrown into it. At least that much hadn’t changed, Lucius thought. “Not intentionally. It just would be so much better for us and everyone in Chaldea if we simply kept out of each other’s way, isn’t it?”

He said it bluntly, calmly, but the nervous way he fingered his cape—albeit very briefly—very much looked like an admittance of guilt.

“But that wouldn’t be interesting, would it?” He pointed out, observing the other man closely. “There isn’t any fun to be had from that. Why, I thought that our Master meant to bring all sorts of Heroic Spirits together in order for us to get along,” he grinned, noticing that Arthur bristled and frowned at that. “I know our relationship hasn’t been one with rainbows and pretty things, but we could start mending it, don’t you think?”

“I have someplace to be,” Arthur replied, coldly. “We’re on borrowed time as it is, so please, cut to the chase, Emperor, and tell me what it is you actually want.”

That much also didn’t change, he thought, though he noted that the glare had more of the intended effect now that he’s taller, with the corresponding increase in presence and charisma. It’s not that he didn’t take the Arthur he know seriously—well, maybe, just a little, but he’d learnt that it was the folly that led to his death in the past—but it was almost impossible not to take this one seriously. 

He had to admit that that much is also very much attractive, and he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“Oh, nothing much,” he told him, slowly, trying to gauge Arthur’s reaction. “Just perhaps your side of the story. I’m feeling gracious after all. And it’s been a long time. Certainly I saw that things had changed for _you_.”

“And what makes you think that I’d just tell you?” Arthur retorted right away, his eyes flashing with something that seems like silent annoyance—or fury. “Do you seriously think we’re companions? What makes you think I’ll sit down and chat with you about it over tea? I know you’ve had your fair share of delusions, Emperor, as all Romans do, but this one is just a little too far.”

That _did_ sting a little, though he won’t admit it, but he really isn’t the type to be deterred by barbed words (in fact, nothing much seemed to deter him, or else he isn’t Lucius Tiberius), and besides, it was nothing, he told himself. He steeled himself with a wry smile, and pressed forward.

“No, I do not have such delusions, or whatever it is you’re implying, and I’m hurt that you assumed such wrong things about me,” he said, with a light shrug. “I told you, I know we didn’t have a good past, which is perhaps an understatement, but that is why. What if I gave you another chance to defeat me in single combat?”

“I _did_ defeat you in single combat,” Arthur answered, tartly. “In case you need your memory to be refreshed. Perhaps being in the Throne of Heroes for too long has affected the capabilities of your brain? Though I don’t suppose you use much of it in the first place if you’re still talking to me about this.”

The thinly veiled insults, strangely, left him feeling more amused than actually vexed, and he had to suppress another amused smile, which seemed to annoy Arthur even more, judging from the subtle shift of his expression. 

“My memory is just fine, Arthur, thank you for worrying about that,” he said, calmly, watching as another flicker of annoyance crossed the other man’s green eyes. “But what I actually meant is this: let’s do a round in the combat simulator. You can see it as another chance to defeat me, if you’re still so inclined. If you win, I’ll leave you—and all the other yous there is—alone for the duration of our stay in Chaldea, unless our Master wants us to fight together.”

“And if you win?” Arthur asked, warily eyeing him, as if he was about to spring some dirty trick on him. Lucius had to laugh.

“I told you: I’m feeling gracious. All I want is your story, nothing more,” he shrugged again, tilting his head slightly afterwards. “Besides, I think our fight alone should be interesting enough, since you’re not wielding your sacred sword this time, aren’t you?”

“A skillful deduction, Emperor. You should be a detective,” Arthur said, the sarcasm unmistakeable. “But fine. I accept your invitation. I can’t deny that I wanted to defeat you one more time, after all. And this should be another excellent lesson for you: that even with my lance, I can still defeat you just fine.”

“Yes, that is the spirit,” he grinned, his heart already racing, not at the thought of winning the bet or the fight, not even at the thought of fighting Arthur again, but at the thought of the fight itself—that is what he lived for. “And I would like to see your fighting prowess with your lance. That would be the most remarkable display.”

Arthur shot him a cold look. Lucius couldn’t tell if he was just as eager, but those words probably managed to put him in the appropriate frame of mind if he wasn’t already. Pushing his buttons is still remarkably easy, despite his calm appearance.

“The combat simulator awaits us,” the king simply said, his tone final and brooks no argument.

* * *

He hadn’t actually been to the combat simulator room before ever since his arrival a couple of days back, and his Master is evidently quite laid back, since he let new Servants explore the place on their own, but he expect it to be quite packed. He did briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t the only one around who was bored out of his mind, after all, and, considering the fact that Chaldea had quite a number of warriors in the list, it would make a great amount of sense that some of them would seek out the simulator to simply pass the time.

But, it was pretty much empty, deserted even, and he privately wondered why.

“Summer has started,” Arthur simply stated, most likely caught the silent question in his eyes when he turned slightly to look at him before they go inside. It was clear that he expected Lucius to get what he meant, but, the silent question must have persisted, since he expanded his statement. “You’re new. But, every summer there’s always been a big festival or event or something along that line,” he quickly said, before Lucius could put his question into words. “And everyone always threw a huge fuss over going to the beach, swimsuits, and all that,” Arthur paused, trying not to roll his eyes over this, and failing, which Lucius thought was especially amusing. “_That’s_ where everyone is. Or petitioning Master by forming ridiculous queues in front of his room,” he shrugged.

Arthur doesn’t seem to be particularly interested in whatever is going on, and this was another interesting revelation that he quickly snatched and kept in the back of his mind. 

“That certainly does explain things,” he said, with a lopsided smile. “But—“

“Save your inquiries and arrogant remarks for someone else who wants to listen,” Arthur interjected, already making his way towards the doors, which immediately slides open, and Lucius followed suit, feeling even more amused and growing even more curious about him by now. “We’re not here to chat. Are you ready, Emperor?”

“You really don’t need to ask,” he told him, and watched as the other man brought the simulator to life. 

They summoned their respective weapons—he observed with great delight the golden, shining lance, and the magnificent, armoured white stallion, knowing that this would not just be merely an easy sparring session—and exchanged a couple of opening blows, testing the waters. It felt good to be able to fight again like this, Florent in hand, adrenaline surging through his veins, with a more than worthy opponent. 

It could have lasted a thousand years, or in minutes. He had not the slightest idea, and he doesn’t care—the fight is all that Lucius cared about, even if they didn’t fight to kill this time around, the fight and his opponent, fierce and beautiful and deadly, and he saw the one he knew in him, for a moment, a flashback to another era, but this time around, Lucius was determined not to be vanquished.

In theory, that alone would not suffice, but he learnt from his previous mistake, his former folly, and he did not hold back when he saw the opening.

“Well, this is certainly an interesting turn of event,” he said, casually, in the aftermath, watching the other man closely. He had managed to unhorse Arthur, and he gave him a little time to overcome the initial shock, and to gather himself to a sitting position. “Do you perhaps now have a better view of my abilities?” He asked, couldn’t help but gloat a little in victory’s glow, and moved closer. 

He thought of offering Arthur his hand to help him stand, but before then, he touched his chin lightly with the tip of his sword, tilting his face up so their gaze would meet.

“I always thought of you as a no-good brute of a tyrant,” Arthur responded, coolly, despite the storm that is his eyes. “But now I thought of you as simply a brute and a tyrant. I would certainly call that an improvement.”

“But you should at least admit that I win this time around,” Lucius countered, with a confident smile. “It’s over, Arthur, I win the deal.”

“…Yes, only _this_ time around, Emperor,” his opponent retorted, still somewhat nonchalantly, despite the suppressed emotions around the edges. “That left me with no choice but to fulfill my part of the deal.”

“Of course,” he grinned, withdrawing his sword and offering the other man his hand, but Arthur blatantly brushed it aside, straightening himself up in one smooth move. “Tell me your story, Arthur. Tell me what happened after you defeated me. What happened after you go back to your beloved Britain. What happened…” he trailed off for a bit, remembering the lance, the comparisons he cannot help but make between the one he knew and the one he was talking to. “…that led you to switch your favoured sacred sword with your sacred lance.”

“That is a long story to tell,” Arthur told him, evenly, although his shoulders did stiffen for a moment. “But I suppose we have time.”

“We do,” Lucius said, casting a glance around the room. “And there’s no one around to disturb us. So let’s begin.”

“I’m certain you already know what happened after I defeated you, and after I go back. The Throne would already have given you the information, wouldn’t it, before Master summoned you here?” Arthur started, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I do not see the point of repeating what you already know. As for my sword…”

“The point, dear Arthur, is that I would like to hear the story in your own words,” he chuckled, feeling a certain, familiar temptation rise within him, and he took this opening, too—Arthur’s silent attention—by stepping closer to the other man. “But I changed my mind. I’m a changeable man. It looks like there’s something more interesting to be had,” he told him, with a dangerous smile. The look that he gave him should be unmistakeable, and he was half-expecting the other man to give him a biting response.

“I should have known,” Arthur merely said, softly, shaking his head lightly.

Lucius reached out to touch his chin, but Arthur didn’t seem to be surprised in the slightest, and when he pushed him back to the nearest wall, pressing his lips to his roughly, he doesn’t seem to be surprised, either. As a matter of fact, Lucius was the one who felt a strange yet pleasant jolt of surprise when the other man kissed him back immediately, the force of it matching his in ferocity. It was nearly as thrilling as their sparring session earlier, and he felt his pulse quickening, when Arthur cupped his face and pulled him closer to kiss him, again, soon after he finished tasting him for the first time. 

“I’m glad that you don’t seem to hate me for merely exercising my victor’s right,” Lucius told him, a little breathlessly, his hands pinning the other man’s body to the wall. “We had such a great time at the simulator earlier, but that rather puts me in the mood for something else.”

“Do you think you’re the only one?” Arthur voiced, in return, and Lucius fancied that he saw the ghost of an amused smile. “Do you think I would be unwilling for an _extra_ session? More than that, do you really think you actually won?” He says, with a smile that was just as unmistakeable as him wrapping his arms around Lucius’ hips, tugging him closer, his voice low and inviting. “Is that what you think, Emperor?”

“Yes, but this is a nice surprise,” he laughed, briefly, amused at how things turned out. “I thought that you despised me.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He pressed another insistent kiss on Arthur’s lips, sliding his tongue into his mouth, and, evidently, it is what he wanted, since he parted his lips for him, and he, too, could feel Arthur shift, opening his legs slightly for him.

“I merely let you win this time,” Arthur whispered, after the kiss, running a finger on Lucius’ bottom lip. “Remember that. And yes, as a matter of fact, I _do_ despise you, Emperor, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting me, so why should I let it stop me too?”

There was confidence in that, confidence that took him aback, and he felt Arthur rubbing himself on him, both impatient and demanding, a combination that Lucius thought was especially arousing.

“Very good,” he told him, with a satisfied smirk. “I see you have finally learnt to take what you want. It seems like we’re going to have plenty of fun together.”

He grazed Arthur’s lips with his, teasingly, but Arthur beat him to it and kissed him, fully, hungrily, and he let his hands wander down the other man’s body for a bit, imagining how it would feel, to have him. 

He liked the thought, and he brought his lips slowly to his neck, trailing tiny kisses along the way. Arthur let out a moan, something that sounded so loud amidst the hum of machinery, and that brought Lucius back to their current situation, to the fact that they are still in the empty combat simulator room. Their rapid breathing, too, felt like an anomaly amidst such a silence, and he knows that, despite the fact that they were currently the only ones occupying the space, and, even if the hallways seemed to be deserted at the moment, anyone could still accidentally walk in on them, but there was a certain thrill to be had in that, as well. 

“Did you change your mind again, or did something else cross your mind?” Arthur said, breaking his train of thought, and Lucius realised that he’d stopped midway through. 

“No, it’s just that…” he trailed off, letting his breath tease Arthur’s neck, noticing the way it made the other man’s breath hitch. “You do realise that anyone could walk in on us any time now, don’t you? If anyone ran into us like this…”

He left the rest for imagination, opting to distract Arthur by pressing another kiss on his neck, biting the spot lightly afterwards, enough to left a faint mark. 

“That’s just exactly the kind of thrill you enjoy, isn’t it?” Arthur remarked, his grip on Lucius’ hips tightening. “In fact, wouldn’t you like that, for someone else to walk in while you were busy with your latest conquest? As far as I remember, you did like showing off a little bit too much,” he continued, so remarkably calm and so unlike the one Lucius used to know—or at least he thought he knew—pushing him back just enough, just so he could give him a wry, mocking smile, before Arthur seized him by the hair and pull him closer for a rough, violent kiss. 

It did take him very much by surprise, again, but before Lucius could return the gesture, Arthur had already ended the kiss.

“But, much as I hate to admit it, you’re right,” he said, although he made no move to push Lucius away. “We should go to your room, Emperor, and finish our business there.”

“Of course,” Lucius replied, but he didn’t disentangle himself from Arthur, either, instead reaching to undo the high collar of his tunic, giving him a slow, lazy smile, gaze not leaving his face. “But we can go a bit further still, don’t you think? Don’t worry,” he added, his smile turning into a grin, “I won’t go _too_ far.”

“I have every confidence that you are going to say that,” Arthur said, with a sigh, but didn’t push his hand away. “On that front, at least, you never fail. Very well. I’ll play with you here for a little longer, but after that, we’ll go to your room.”

That felt sweeter than his victory in the simulator earlier, though only serves to deepen Lucius’ curiosity about him, but he certainly couldn’t resist—he could barely able to resist Arthur as it is—not that he wants to, and he undid a few more of Arthur’s buttons, discreetly, pressing his lips on his throat after that, slowly bringing it down to his collarbone, sucking and biting his skin softly every now and then. He felt the other man’s hands on his body, too, curious, and they touched and kissed each other a little bit more like that, until they both felt the mutual need to take it further—to finish their business, as Arthur told him, which is both a curious and amusing way to put it—and Arthur pushed him away, wordlessly, and just as breathlessly, the look in his eyes telling Lucius everything that he needed to know.

“Your room,” he said, quietly, yet commandingly, his green eyes just as fierce as it was when they were engaged in combat earlier. “Now.”

* * *

Aside from the minor obligation to straighten themselves up and their clothing before they embark to his room—Arthur seemed to obsess a little over this, perhaps because he doesn’t want anyone to know, but Lucius doesn’t really care, they’re going to mess it up again real soon anyway—there was, thankfully, no obstruction or distraction to note, and soon, they arrived in their destination without a hitch.

They waste no more time and exchange no more words once they are safely inside the confines of his room (much too small for Lucius’ taste, obviously, but the boy his Master told him that everyone was allocated the same sort of rooming arrangement, unless they materialise with an irregularly large physical body), and they quickly make short work of each other’s clothes (there’s definitely too much of it for his liking) in-between the urgent, furious kissing and groping, though Arthur lets Lucius finish undressing him first.

They were already on his bed, his own clothes already half-undone and some of it already strewn on the floor alongside Arthur’s, when the other man, laying underneath him, suddenly pushed him away.

“Did _you_ change your mind now, Arthur?” He teased, pulling back further to let their gaze meet, noticing the way he seem to stiffen at the mention of his name, as if it reminded him of something he would rather not remember.

“I have a proposal,” Arthur said, abruptly, pointedly ignoring what he said. Lucius raised an eyebrow, but lets him continue. “We can continue doing…_this_…in the future, if you’re so inclined, and I’ll let you do what you want when we’re at it,” he continued, looking up at him warily, but Lucius could see flickers of other emotions underneath, though Arthur managed to keep them tightly under control. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? But I have a condition in exchange for all that.”

“Go on,” he purred, interested, running a finger through the line of Arthur’s jaw, absently remembering how he looked before he kissed him for the first time in the simulator room earlier, though that felt like an eternity ago now, pushing a lock of golden hair aside. Something about him felt so different than the one he knew, not just from the way he acted and carried himself and fought, previously when they sparred together, and it was jarring, in a way, like an image remembered incorrectly, but all the same, it intrigued Lucius. “Name your condition.”

“It’s not much. I want you to act as if we were complete strangers when we’re together like this,” Arthur revealed. “No more True Names, no titles, no allusions to or clever remarks about what had happened in the past. I want you to act as if we do not share any history together, bad blood or otherwise. Of course, outside from this, we also have to pretend that the other do not exist unless we have to, but this is all a rather small price to pay in exchange for what you desire, isn’t it?”

“You make an interesting bargain,” Lucius replied, after a fair amount of silence. Arthur pulled him in for a rather lazy kiss on the lips, slipping his tongue into his mouth, and he kissed him back, though he still mulled over his proposal in his mind. “And I have to say, you’re very persuasive about it,” he added, afterwards, with a chuckle, licking his lips, liking the taste of him there. “I would never thought that you’d have such a fantasy, though, but then again, I suppose you are full of surprises. I wonder why, though.”

He thought, briefly, of the man he knew, and fleetingly wondered if he was the reason Arthur proposed such a thing. After all, _he_ would never accept this sort of relationship between another version of himself and his enemy, and, since he was around in Chaldea too, it would make a fair amount of sense that the one Lucius was with would not want him to know.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Arthur asked, a fleeting, darkly ironic sort of smile touching his lips momentarily. “You’re just a ghost from the past of someone that I used to be, and I’m just a ghost from the future of someone that you used to know. That is just the logical conclusion to it, is it not? It would certainly make things easier for both of us.”

For him, maybe, Lucius thought, looking down at him, trying to imagine him with shorter hair, softer eyes. Not a storm, not divine like lightning. He had little trouble accepting his death at that man’s hands, although part of him still couldn’t accept his defeat, still couldn’t believe that an upstart boy who would not even view himself as a god above men—despite the power he wields, his equal in every way—could be the death of him. 

But, he had to admit, this one—his naked body warm and inviting underneath him, the mere sight of him alone quickens his pulse—did have a point, and perhaps, perhaps he was right.

Besides, even if he wasn’t, what he proposed should make things even more interesting, and that was something Lucius could not refuse.

“If that’s how you want to play it,” Lucius finally said, reaching for Arthur’s hand, lazily pressing his lips to the back of it. “I accept. We have a deal.”

“Good,” Arthur told him, with the ghost of a satisfied smile, nodding in approval. “Then I’ll let you have your way with me today, Saber.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain, Lancer,” he grinned, pinning the hand he was still holding on the side of Arthur’s head, felt the other man pull him close with his free hand. “You have my word.”

When their lips met again, it felt, in many ways, like playing with something worse than fire, something terrible and ungraspable, but he welcomed the danger.

He loves victory—there was little that could rival the sensation of conquering his foe—and Arthur was not only a worthy opponent in combat, but also in bed. Lucius thought that he particularly enjoyed how he looked, when he told him that he wanted him inside of him, and afterwards, the moment after they had both reached climax. Coming inside him was a nice bonus, and, as he watched Arthur dress soon after, he thought again about what he requested, about them pretending to be strangers, and thought that perhaps, perhaps for a tiny fraction of a moment, when he was inside of him, he _could_ forget.

But that, too, would be a lie.

* * *

Days passed quickly after that, in the perpetually snow-covered observatory and last bastion of hope for humanity, even if it’s the height of summer. Everyone seemed to be busy with something else, one thing or another, and he discovered that they could live something approaching a normal life here, with ease, barring the noise, the occasional clashes between Servants, and the abnormalities.

His arrangement with Arthur—if it can be called that—is going smoothly: they see each other every now and then for one thing, and only that, and, beyond that, Lucius graciously kept out of the other man’s way, and vice versa. He knows that it won’t last forever, but it made his summer all the more thrilling, and he was more than determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

Things had definitely been enjoyable, and full of pleasant surprises besides, since Arthur had been more than willing to keep things sufficiently interesting. So far, they’ve had sex in quite a number of places, including the simulator room after another sparring session, and on a desk in an empty staff room that they stumble upon by accident. Evidently, Arthur enjoyed the thrill of getting caught as much as he do, despite how he acted.

All in all, it was a fun ride, though tonight they did it in his room, like the first time.

Lucius must have fallen asleep on his own bed after they were finished, in the blissful, comfortable glow of the aftermath. He thought he dreamt of something deeply familiar, long ago, and vaguely realised the warmth of another body, pressed close to him in the cramped, limited space of his bed, but when he wakes up, he was alone in the dark. 

He doesn’t think he’d fallen asleep for very long—a glance at the clock confirmed it—but the curious thing is that the bathroom light is on, and he could hear the sound of the shower running.

Servants doesn’t really need to shower the way they don’t really need to eat or sleep regularly, but it was a habit some of them found hard to abandon, and for some others, it offered a particular kind of comfort. He threw a glance at the clothes still scattered on the floor, too, before he padded towards the bathroom, opened the door, and went in without thinking.

The bathroom, like the bedroom, was built with utility and uniformity in mind, and there isn’t much in it except for the standard: sink, toilet, and a shower in the corner.

He didn’t bother to shut the door properly behind him, instead choosing to head straight to the direction of the shower right away, but he waited until the other man turned off the water, before speaking.

“Lancer,” Lucius started, pausing to take it all in. “I thought you’d left.”

It was quite a sight, he supposed, Arthur standing in the shower, his back to him, steam still clinging to his body, lending a peculiar sort of softness to the edges of his sharp, elegant silhouette. Lucius thought he saw him tensing when he spoke, as if he had caught him in the middle of something private.

Well, maybe he _did_ interrupt his privacy, but he doesn’t really care.

“I fell asleep,” Arthur said, carefully, not facing him. “I don’t want to wake you.”

This was curious, and it was evident that he was embarrassed to admit that he too had fallen asleep after him, although his tone betrays nothing.

“Is that so?” Lucius remarked, taking a step closer. “You don’t really need to be so considerate, you know,” he added, smiling amusedly to himself. “There is nothing between us, is there? So you don’t need to worry about that.”

He was simply teasing him, of course, and he expected Arthur to turn and scowl at him, maybe throw in a thinly-veiled insult or two.

“Yes,” the other man replied, and, from the seriousness of his tone, it was evident that there is something on his mind. Yet, Lucius could sense an undertone of nervousness to it. “There is nothing between us, and there never will be.”

He felt the familiar beginnings of desire rising in him, and he moved closer, wrapping his arms around him, feeling Arthur tensing again. His hair, when he absently buried his face in it for a brief moment, was a bit wet—although it smelled good and quite familiar at this point—and so is the rest of him, his naked frame pressed against him in the small corner of the shower. It reminded him of his dream, somehow, and Lucius recognised that the warmth he felt, fleetingly, was of Arthur asleep beside him, before he wakes up and walked into the shower.

“No need to worry, Lancer…” he whispered, breath teasing his neck, feeling Arthur shiver, lightly, in his arms. “I’m not going to be rough with you. Not this time.”

“I- I don’t—“ Arthur muttered, and Lucius thought that he must have really taken him off guard this time, since he doesn’t see any of the usual confidence or the cool, unperturbed front that he’d given him all this time. He took the chance to press a kiss on his neck, curiously, then another. “Saber. Please.”

But he didn’t tell him to stop, didn’t try to push him away, and so he continued pressing kisses on his neck, each one more insistent than the last, loving the way it made Arthur shiver in his arms, and moan, desperately, though he tried his best to suppress it. 

“I had plenty of fun earlier,” Lucius said, tracing a line on Arthur’s hip, down to his thigh. “And I thought, we could do it again now, before you really have to leave. It’s not like you have somewhere else to be tonight, is it?”

He caressed his thigh, pressed his lips on the side of his jaw. Arthur turned his face slightly towards him, letting their lips met, though Lucius felt his hesitance when he returned his kiss, and he pulled away hastily after that, not meeting his gaze.

“Fine, I’ll let you have your fun one more time tonight,” he said, after they broke the kiss, back to his usual, uninterested tone for a moment. “But I don’t want you to look at me while you do it. I- I don’t want to face you right now. I can’t.”

This was another bizarre, curious request from him, and usually, Lucius would be more than inclined to agree since it would make their session together slightly more interesting, but considering the way Arthur had acted ever since he walked into the shower, and the way his voice trembled, it was evident that he was hiding something, and he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t terribly curious about it.

“Usually, I would be inclined to grant your request. But,” he added, pausing briefly before he turned him around, not unkindly, so he would be able to see his face. “My curiosity gets the best of me sometimes.”

It was evident why Arthur doesn’t want Lucius to see him then. Holding Arthur’s gaze, he could see everything, and it was as if he’d finally gotten a glimpse of the real person underneath the armour, and he knows that, all of this time, Arthur had been putting on airs, doing everything in his power to not let anyone—especially not him—see this side of him.

Lucius doesn’t know what’s been on his mind before he arrived, but that, combined with his touches and kisses, had left him in quite a vulnerable state, emotionally, and for a moment, he thought he saw guilt and doubt flashed by in Arthur’s green eyes.

He almost, quite nearly felt guilty himself when, as he pins him to the wall and eventually slipped inside of him, he found himself imagining someone else, someone that he used to know in an era dead and long gone, for it was certainly easier to picture Lancer with a shorter hair and softer eyes, when he was in this state.

It was a fleeting vision, and it was wrong, Lucius knows, but it felt nearly satisfying. He’d never done that before—not for all the time that they were having their tryst since it started that one fateful afternoon—and he knew that he would never do that again.

“I’ll be going now,” Lancer—Arthur—said in the aftermath, almost softly, but it was imperceptible, and his eyes quickly hardened besides, bringing Lucius back to reality.

He knows, Lucius understands, possibly he could tell from the look in his eyes when Arthur turned to face him again after they’re done, though he doesn’t say anything about it, and Lucius released him, letting him pass.

The image flitted through his mind again, after he left, of the one he knew, of the past, and he wondered, briefly, very briefly, if he had hurt the one who’d lend him his warmth, the one who looked so fragile when he looked him in the eye earlier, despite everything.

But the thought, like everything else, soon disappeared.

* * *

A couple more days passed. He was growing to understand his Master a little bit better, he supposed, not only from the passing stories and idle mentions of the other Servants, but also from spending time with him, since he took him to more missions. 

He tried not to think too much about the incident in the shower with Lancer—if it can be called that—although, it was hard, since he had to admit, he was attracted to him still, even more so now that he’d discovered that there is actual warmth underneath the ice. It was like stumbling into something real, something tangible after thinking that it was merely a beautiful mirage, and once or even twice after the incident, Lucius thought of Arthur with him in the shower that night, not the one he used to know this time, thought of how he looked and begged and _felt_—he felt especially good that night, even if he’d had him once before already in the same night, and even sweeter to hear him beg—and he pleasured himself at the thought, the memory, the fleeting dream.

Yet, he was aware that it most likely won’t happen again, and, in all honesty, he thought that Arthur wouldn’t come to him again, not after that.

He’d just gotten back to his room after another mission that late afternoon, still a little high from the thrill of the battle, although it wasn’t a big mission, nothing with particularly strong enemies, and he briefly hoped that his Master would take him to something more challenging soon. 

There is still some time before dinner, and he’d just taken off his coat and sat on his bed, absently wondering about what to do now, when he heard the knock.

Since it was in Lancer’s interest to maintain secrecy, they had to develop some manner to not only contact each other but also to know when it was the other at times like this. The precise number of knocks corresponds with what they’d agreed upon, but Lucius thought that he was just probably going to slip a note under the door or something along that line, since Arthur had never approached him directly in his room before, not like this.

But there would always be a first to everything, he thought, as Arthur stepped in through the unlocked door.

“Well, there is a nice surprise,” Lucius said, giving him a slight, curious smile. “Thought you were just going to slip a note and left.”

“Oh, so that’s why you didn’t just open the door,” Arthur responded, narrowing his eyes slightly at him. “Have you any idea how many people I have to slip past in order to get here undisturbed? It almost makes me wish I was an Assassin,” he complained, locking the door behind him. 

“I don’t think that would suit you,” he told him, his smile widening, taking him in. It would be a nice distraction before dinner, he supposed, and besides, he already had something in mind for Arthur, and now that he’s here—now that his assumption of Arthur never wanting to see him again after what happened that night in the shower had been proven wrong—Lucius wanted to make it a reality. “But you could just say that you want me to open the door real quick when you come knocking, you know,” he added, with a chuckle, rising from his bed.

“That’s not—“ Arthur protested, a flicker of familiar annoyance crossed his features, and, when Lucius stopped in front of him, he seemed to forget, momentarily, that they were pretty much on eye level now where physical height was concerned, and evidently, he doesn’t really know how to act or react because he seemed to shy away briefly. He thought that it was cute, and the fact that Arthur bit his bottom lip for a fraction of a second was a nice extra. “That’s not what I meant, and you know that.”

“For a moment there, Lancer, I thought you really do liked me,” he teased, reaching out to brush aside a lock of blond hair from his jaw. “But it’s alright. You’re still a fine distraction, as always, and I have something in mind for you.”

It was clear that Arthur did not want to talk about what happened a couple of days back, from the way he acted, but Lucius couldn’t say he cared to in particular either, since the unspoken implication of their arrangement is that neither of them wanted to get attached, and, although seeing Arthur that way that night did incite his curiosity, it was, he thought, in his best interest, as well, to keep things the way they are.

“And what would that involve?” Arthur questioned, but despite his flat, aloof tone, Lucius caught a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “It better be interesting, Saber, or I’d regret choosing to visit you over a myriad of other things that I could do this afternoon.”

“No, no, I promise you, you’d regret nothing,” he told him, taking a step closer. “Let me tell you what I want.”

He expected some degree of resistance from the other man after he told him what he envisioned, but Arthur must be in either a good mood or was determined to fulfill his end of the deal—he did mention that Lucius could do what he wanted during their sessions together when he proposed the deal, after all—since he accepted it without much question.

It’s not like it’s something much, anyway, but the result was something straight out of a dream—_his_ dream, in any case, one of the dirtier ones, though obviously not the dirtiest. He had to pull back for a moment and admire the view.

Arthur was lying on his back, in his bed, as he’d done before, but this time with his cape underneath him, and on top of it, he was wearing absolutely nothing, except for the golden crown on his head. His hands were bound together by the wrists and neatly arranged above his head, a nice cherry on top—for Lucius—that Arthur had agreed on with a tiny scoff and a slight shake of his head. 

It was a majestic sight, no doubt about it, which made his heart race, and it helps that Arthur seemed to have returned to his normal self, seemingly not too bothered about it, and the possibility to slip underneath that armour is definitely an exciting one, though his cool confidence turns Lucius on all the same. 

He had accepted, at this point, that he was different from the wielder of the Holy Sword, though he can’t help but wonder, briefly, very fleetingly, how that Arthur would have reacted, if he was put in the position that Lancer was in.

“Is this your fantasy, Saber?” Arthur said, breaking his train of thought. “Just this? I thought you’d ask for something…more _colourful_,” he added, and Lucius thought he saw a tiny smirk.

“We barely even started yet,” he told him, mirroring Arthur’s smirk, lightly lifting his chin. “Would you prefer something more colourful? I wouldn’t have thought that you had such _fantasies_, considering how properly you acted in front of the others,” he smiled at him, slowly, moving his hand from Arthur’s chin to caress his cheek. “Besides, this is already quite…interesting, isn’t it?”

His smile widens, slightly, as he rested his hand on his cheek, but let his gaze move, languidly, from Arthur’s face to his exposed body, letting it linger but not a moment too long—the crimson fabric spread out underneath him complimented his pale skin well, and the golden crown looks good on him, Lucius thought, especially like this—before he straddles him, properly, pressing a curious, inviting kiss on his lips. Arthur kissed him back, a little harder, though it was evident that he tried to restrain himself, and, to Lucius’ surprise, he bit his lip, not as rough as Lucius would have liked, but enough to both surprise and excite him more.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Arthur chided, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t actually expect me to just submit meekly to you, did you? If your fantasy is to bed a spineless sex toy, then you’re probably doing the wrong person.”

This was interesting in more ways than one, and he couldn’t help but let out a burst of amused laughter.

“You’re right,” he grinned, running a finger across Arthur’s bottom lip. “I did not expect you to be that. That would be boring, wouldn’t it? But Lancer…“ he kissed him again on his lips, roughly, slipping his tongue into Arthur’s mouth, knowing very well how he liked it now. “This is at least partially interesting because you’re really quite in a bind now, aren’t you?”

Lucius gave him another look, tracing a line, absently, from Arthur’s collarbone to his chest, watching his expression closely.

“…maybe, just a little,” the other man admitted, although somewhat petulantly, shifting slightly underneath him. “It’s a little frustrating, not being able to touch you, I have to admit, but I’ll find another way,” he added, almost conversationally, though the look he gave him tells Lucius that he’s serious about it.

That was just as well, he thought, and no more words were exchanged between them as they busied themselves with each other, lips and tongue all too occupied with making new discoveries, and it felt a bit like a competition, like their sparring matches, although now it felt a little unfair, since the playing field aren’t level. 

Not that he minded. It was, as Arthur puts it, his fantasy, and the reality is so much better, Arthur underneath him, his legs wrapped around Lucius’ hips, his cheeks all flushed, his hair slightly messy. 

“You’re cheating,” Arthur managed, evidently still trying to catch his breath, rubbing his hard-on against his thigh to gain more friction, and Lucius responded with a deep kiss on his throat, sucking and biting the spot lightly afterwards to leave another mark. There are already a number of them dotting the other man’s skin at this point, but he doesn’t really feel like stopping, not when he thought that they looked so wonderful on him. “With this…little set-up. You know you nearly broke the terms of our deal, aren’t you?”

“Am I, Lancer?” He responded, taking the time to languidly reach between Arthur’s legs and stroke his hard-on, hearing the desperate hitch in the other man’s already rapid breathing as he did so. He knows what he meant, but he doesn’t particularly care about it, and besides, Lucius thought, if Arthur wanted to object, he should have done so earlier. “I don’t really know what you mean. Though, I have to say…” he trailed off, pausing briefly before he disentangled Arthur’s legs from his hips so he can turn him around slightly, not quite roughly, arranging him so he could start preparing him for his eventual entry. “Had I won, this is how I would have chosen to take you after I took your inconsequential, rebellious kingdom. Yes, like that,” he added, couldn’t help but laugh at how it made Arthur flush, and he reached down, to fondle his exposed bottom. “I like that look. You really are a gorgeous, fine distraction, Lancer. But it’s not my fault if your mind connected what I said with what had _possibly_ happened in the distant past.”

“…I like it much, much better when you’re quiet, Saber, or when you’re inside me,” Arthur said, only pouting a little, and Lucius is familiar with that look at this point—that could only mean that Arthur wanted him inside of him, and he was well aware of the effect that that look had, and him in general, on Lucius. “Preferably both at the same time.”

“Don’t worry, we’re getting to it, and I know what you really liked at this point,” he told him, amusedly, stroking his cheek, watching annoyance and desire simmer and mingle in Arthur’s green eyes. It was decidedly adorable, and he would have liked to sit and watch him suffer for a little bit more, especially since he noticed how Arthur shifted his bound wrists a little impatiently, but Lucius, too, already felt the overwhelming urge to relieve himself, so he rose from the bed and reached for the lubrication that he’d prepared and put on the top of the bedside table earlier. “Yes, when it comes down to it, you really rather enjoyed being my sex toy, aren’t you?”

He didn’t give him a chance to respond, because he already started fingering him, as he started applying the lube, teasing him a bit every now and then with his fingers, loving the way that it made Arthur buck and writhe. When he was done, and Arthur was finally ready for him, he positioned himself on top of him again, comfortably, leaning in to press a kiss on Arthur’s lips.

“Or perhaps you secretly fantasised about being fucked like a common whore,” Lucius whispered after the kiss, teasingly, but a cruel smile touched his lips. “Too bad that you’re much too gorgeous to be one. Still, you don’t need to worry that pretty little crowned head of yours, I’m going to fuck you all the same, Lancer.”

“Shut up and just get to it. I want you so bad right now,” Arthur hissed, evidently had enough with all his teasing, but he blushed most beautifully, Lucius thought, and he kissed him again one more time before he tested the waters, prolonging it just a little, only a little, just so he could hear Arthur moan and suffer a little longer, before he slid inside of him, thrusting himself in. 

Arthur _did_ beg, he noted, triumphantly, as he was fucking him, and it was lovely, music to his ears. He almost didn’t want it to stop, but he already felt the pressure building inside of him, and Lucius came inside of him soon anyway, spilling his seed there. It felt even more satisfying than the last time, and the fact that he managed to make Arthur come messily soon afterwards makes it all the better.

This time, he did not think of someone else, someone who looked like the one in his bed, and the two images he held in his mind—one of that person, and the other of this one—had finally stopped colliding.

* * *

The aftermath is a little bizarre, Lucius thought, because this time around Arthur lets him hold him in his arms, and this was an even more dangerous game than the one they are currently playing, he knows, but he couldn’t find it in him to care, not when he enjoyed the warmth that Arthur’s body offered, and his presence, too, offers a particular kind of comfort.

And maybe it’s as simple as the fact that he smelled _good_, he fleetingly thought, burying his face in Arthur’s hair.

Lucius knows that soon, Arthur is going to leave for dinner, and he doesn’t think he’ll get this chance ever again, to just _be_ in the same space as him with his arms wrapped around him, thus, every second is infinitely precious, even if they spent it in silence, Arthur’s back pressed to his chest, albeit a mostly comfortable one.

He doesn’t think there is anything to say anyway—perhaps Lancer was right, in the sense that they are ghosts to each other—although he strangely wanted to, felt the need to.

“What are you thinking?” He finally said, breaking the silence, absently stroking Arthur’s hair.

“Nothing in particular, just dinner,” Arthur told him, after a small amount of pause. “Hey, Saber. What do you think we would be getting for dinner tonight?”

This certainly took Lucius off-guard—the conversational tone, and the equally casual content was something that he would not expect from Arthur, not in a thousand years, at least—and he stopped stroking his hair, momentarily, suddenly struck by the realisation of how they had been acting, right now at least, like they were lovers, and he, too, realised, with a certain amount of discomfort and doubt, that this is what he’s been missing, even if it’s only playing house—barely, even—with a version of someone who’d defeated and killed him in the past.

It felt terribly uncomfortable to recognise that this immense void had existed inside of him all this time.

“Don’t they have a weekly or monthly menu or something?” Lucius quickly said, resuming what he’s been doing, trying to mask the discomfort his realisation had caused him because he doesn’t want Arthur to think that something was amiss. “I don’t know, you tell me. You’ve been here for longer than I do, right?”

“They do, but you know the main chef is a Berserker,” Arthur explained, and Lucius noticed that he’s—unconsciously, maybe—snuggling closer, and he instinctively tightened his embrace in response to that. “It really grinds my gear if I ordered something and she gave me something else. You’d agree that it’s infuriating, would you?”

“Yes,” he said, still couldn’t believe that they were actually having a civil conversation, without any sarcasm or thinly-veiled insults or anything like that involved. “Perhaps you need to confront her if that annoys you so much, Lancer.”

“There are plenty of unwritten rules around, but chief among them is that you don’t pick a fight with Berserkers. Or Avengers, for that matter, even if some of them are really spoiling for a fight,” the other man continued, and, even if he was the one stroking Arthur’s hair, somehow Lucius is starting to feel sleepy. Perhaps it was the combination of the exhaustion—he did, after all, went to a mission earlier, before Arthur arrived—the warmth of another body beside him, and Arthur’s clear, calm voice. “Ah, it’s nearly dinnertime. I suppose I should get going now.”

He hated how his mind, even then, even slowly lulled to sleep like this, still draw comparisons between the one he was holding and the one that existed in his memory. He’d established by now that Lancer and Saber—the one from memory, the one whose light had seared itself in his mind forevermore at that final, decisive battle—are two completely different people, yet he couldn’t help but wonder, if this side of Lancer—the side who’s talking freely to him, with no care in the world—is merely another side of Arthur, if this is just who he is, too, at the heart of it.

“But you haven’t told me a lot of things,” Lucius protested, but gently, though he let his grip on Arthur slacken. “Your favourite dinner menu, for example.”

He didn’t tell him to stay, even if only for a little while longer, and he didn’t tell him to forget about dinner, either, because he would rather stay all night here, with him in his arms, although he wanted to, and yet, he was more than aware that he shouldn’t. 

Thus, for the first time in a long time, Lucius bit his tongue and kept what he truly wanted to say to himself.

“My…favourite dinner menu?” Arthur voiced, sounding slightly confused. Perhaps he, too, is slowly coming into the realisation of the danger they were in, acting like this, Lucius thought, drowsily. He must have stopped stroking his hair, because Arthur shook off his hand—not unkindly—and shifted, so he could face him. “Perhaps one day I’d let you take a guess. But, I’ll let you in on the secret that things tasted so much better with pudding,” he said, and maybe he was truly drifting off into sleep, because Lucius thought that he saw a small, but genuine smile on Arthur’s lips. “There, you’re getting real sleepy, aren’t you? I’ll see you soon. Sleep well, Saber.”

It was all too innocent, and in another time he would think that it was something more suited for his Saber self, but now he know that Lancer, too, had another side to him, and he felt the faint touch of Arthur’s fingertips on his hair, before the more familiar, soft touch of his lips, like the merest brush of an angel’s wing, on his forehead. Lucius felt his heart quickening—different than when they were having sex—and the moment felt simultaneously infinite and instant, but in truth, it was over quickly, all too quickly for his liking, and Arthur pulled away.

He didn’t see him leave, this time, because he had fallen asleep, and he didn’t remember his dreams, afterwards, but he thought that they were strangely soft, not unlike the man whose lips brushed his forehead, before sleep claimed him.

* * *

He would have thought that what had transpired between them in that transient moment before he fell asleep that afternoon was merely something akin to a fever dream, a beautiful mirage, if not for the fact that Arthur left his cape behind on his bed, and when he wakes, he discovered that someone had made the effort to drape it on his sleeping figure.

It was a curious thing, but Lucius tried not too think too much about it afterwards, because this was indeed a dangerous game they were playing, and they were certainly courting their own doom, flying too close to the sun. It wasn’t easy, to relegate Lancer and all his thoughts of him to the corner of his mind as if it doesn’t matter in the slightest, just like that, but the next day he was summoned to the Command Room, and he spent the next couple of days or so helping his Master clean up a mini-Singularity with little time to think of anything else.

There, he learnt the story that he was supposed to hear, that day a couple of weeks ago in the combat simulator room, after his first sparring session with Arthur.

It was something of an accident. Lucius doesn’t really have much interest in his Master aside from what was necessary, especially since he still found it hard to accept that a seemingly unremarkable boy had power over him now—although tales of his past exploits that other Servants had recounted to him certainly did put a healthy amount of curiosity in him—but this was a sentiment that his Master did not share, since he paid careful attention to each of his Servants, and the cleanup duty certainly serves as sufficient excuse for his Master to satisfy his own curiosity of him. 

Put it simply, he accidentally let it slip that he used to know a certain other Saber, and things rather go from there.

His Master evidently means well when he divulged the tale, and it was clear that he had no idea whatsoever that Lucius had interacted with Lancer (although that was really an understatement). However, he wasn’t sure what to think—it wasn’t a pretty story, in any case, although he supposed none of them who ended up as Servants had that particular privilege—or, more specifically, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, how to _feel_.

But it certainly explains a lot of things about Lancer.

In all honesty, Lucius doesn’t want to care, since the premise of their entire relationship was built upon one specific arrangement, and only that. It was getting harder and harder to keep pretending that everything is business as usual, though, when he remembered the smile Arthur gave him that one time, after he asked him about his favourite menu for dinner, the fleeting tenderness that was his lips on his forehead, and the fact that he woke up with his cape around him. He remembered, too, how Arthur made him feel at that moment, the odd, muted warmth of their casual conversation, the realisation that this is what is he lacking, even with the world on his fingertips when he was still alive.

He set out and looked for Arthur, the day after, when he’d officially been freed from cleanup duty, because Lucius felt the need to see him, although he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He told himself that he simply wanted to return Arthur’s cape back to him, but even that was a lie too mouthful for him to swallow.

Lucius had no clue where the other man could be, so he merely followed his instinct, and it took him to the Command Room. He had no reason to be there, since his cleanup duty was over, and his Master didn’t call him for a mission that day, but he went in anyway, expecting to find nothing and most likely some other Servants, a couple of the human staff members, the genius inventor, or even the odd detective-Ruler who can be seen sniffing around every now and then.

But there, he found Lancer, alone, in the center of the room, looking up at the miniature Earth suspended in the midst, the curious centerpiece of the Command Room. It was an interesting sight, in a manner symbolic, almost mythical. 

He approached him, slowly, the lone figure, cutting a sharp, sophisticated silhouette amidst the emptiness, as if he was the last person at the end of the world. 

“Master? Do you need something else?” Arthur said, clearly sensed his approach and heard his footsteps, and Lucius stopped on his tracks, about to respond, but Arthur turned around first. “Oh. It’s you.”

His tone and expression betrayed nothing, not even the slightest hint of what was going on in his mind, and it jarred him for a moment, since he acted so differently before they part ways, last time, but Lucius quickly got hold of himself.

“Were you expecting Master?” Lucius asked, casually, though he observed him closely. He still wasn’t sure what he was actually here for, but he doesn’t want Arthur to know that, not really. “Did you just went on a mission with him?”

“Yes,” Arthur simply answered, nonchalantly. “But that’s not important. What are you doing here, Saber?”

“Nothing in particular,” he shrugged, giving him a slight, enigmatic smile. “My cleanup duty is over. I’m just here by accident.”

“Nothing’s an accident with you,” Lancer retorted, after a small amount of silence, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What do you want?”

It was more than tempting to give him something evasive, to try and throw him off his scent, or at least to perpetuate the narrative that everything is business as usual between them, but Lucius thought, briefly, of everything that had happened between them up to this point.

If they were merely ghosts to each other, something even less than memories, then would not it be possible, for them to start again? The thought flitted through his mind for a moment, lighting up avenues that he doesn’t even know existed, like the memory of light at the end, but he pushed it aside.

“Admittedly, I’m not so sure myself,” Lucius finally said—a momentary admittance of weakness—with another shrug. Perhaps, if everything else is a flight of fancy, at least Arthur—Lancer—deserves some measure of truth. “I would like to say that I would like to talk, but we’re not exactly companions, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we’ve established that ever since we ran into each other,” Arthur confirmed, dryly, with a subtle arch of an eyebrow. “Therefore, I do not think we have anything to talk about. Unless perhaps you’d like to terminate our arrangement?”

“No,” he told him, taking a step closer. “But we _do_ have something to talk about, as a matter of fact, Lancer,” he paused momentarily, trying to gauge the other man’s reaction, but Arthur’s expression was cryptic, distant, unreadable. “I know what happened to you.”

“And?” Arthur asked, laconically. “That could very well mean anything, you know. You also know, Saber, that talking about such things will violate the terms of our deal.”

There’s a subtle warning in there, he knows, and what awaits him is danger, to put it simply, since he had no idea how Lancer would react, should he chose to press forward. But, he had to admit that it made his heart race, and he wanted to slip underneath Arthur’s armour one more time, too, to truly capture the heart of that beautiful mirage that he’d seen.

“And you know that I would gladly break the rules if it suits me,” Lucius said in response, taking another step closer, his gaze not leaving Arthur’s. “Yes, now that I know what happened—now that I know the entire story—I should like to know a number of things. The first is this: if you truly think that we are just ghosts to each other, then why would we need to pretend? Why pretend at all, Lancer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur said, after a certain amount of silence, his expression carved from ice. “And I still don’t think we have anything to talk about. That will be the end of it.”

Surprisingly, Arthur stepped closer this time, closing the short distance between them, and Lucius noticed how his gaze lingered for a moment on his lips, before he leans in to kiss him, his fingertips brushing his chin lightly, and he felt something fluttered, briefly, in his stomach when Arthur kissed him.

Just the mere thought of it makes him feel juvenile and stupid, and he quickly brushes the thought aside.

“Maybe we could do something else, and you could distract me,” Arthur suggested, pulling away nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. “I’m in the mood. Besides, that’s what you’re actually here for, isn’t it? You could just tell me that you want something quick.”

That wasn’t his intention, not this time, not really, and it gave him a small amount of frustration that Arthur merely brushed him aside like that, but Lucius would be lying if he said that this didn’t turn him on in the slightest.

“I suppose I do,” he smiled, languidly, pushing aside his frustration. “And I guess we could possibly talk better in private, too.”

“Oh, I thought you’d want to have something _here_,” Arthur said, with the faintest hint of an inviting, wicked smile. “There’s a couple of staff running things nearby, and anyone could run into us at any given moment, but I could think of a secluded corner or two. Still, if what you want is uninterrupted privacy, then we could do it in your room.”

This, too, was a temptation that was hard to resist, especially with the way Lancer looked at him, and Lucius wasn’t very good at resisting temptations in the first place. 

“Yes, that would be very good indeed,” he nodded, couldn’t help but agree, though he still tried his best to remember what he actually wanted to do, even if it’s hard. 

“Clearly, we could not be seen together, so you should go first, Saber,” Lancer continued, looking satisfied, and he knows that this time, he doesn’t really have the upper hand, even if Arthur’s phrasing of things implied otherwise. “I will not be long. But don’t cheat, okay?” Arthur remarked, perhaps a tiny bit playfully, with a slight tilt of his head and the ghost of a smile. “I don’t want you to start first. Wait for me.”

His tone tells him that it was final, and Lucius couldn’t help but nod, overwhelmed, too, by this side of Arthur. 

He had more than a sneaking suspicion that he’d managed to hit a nerve with his question and his remark that he knows about his story now, but there could be a possibility that he was wrong, that Arthur simply wanted to have some fun with him, as they usually do, and somehow, somehow, the thought of that bothered him, just a little.

* * *

There was really no time to talk when Arthur arrived in his room, not too long after Lucius did, as he promised, since things were moving fast, and, in a way, it was evident that Arthur was doing everything in his power to prevent Lucius from trying to talk to him again, which more than confirms his suspicion.

A part of him doesn’t mind, not exactly, especially since Arthur is currently sitting on top of him in bed, straddling his hips, casually riding him like nothing is wrong in the world. 

He looked great doing that, too, and Lucius thinks that he doesn’t mind letting him have the upper hand, this time around, but something still nags him in the back of his mind, telling him that this is all wrong. He remembered snippets of what his Master said, yesterday, when he was telling him Lancer’s story, and he remembered thinking, afterwards, fleetingly, that it must have broke him, in some ways, and perhaps splinters of it is still hurting him, until now.

Lucius wasn’t a sympathetic or sentimental man, in any case, and they were indeed not companions in any way when they were still alive, but the glimpses that he’d seen of Lancer’s true self had, inevitably, perhaps, made him care about him a little more than he’d originally intended, a little more than just another warm body to fuck.

“I’m thinking perhaps I should take my clothes off now,” Lancer said, breaking his train of thought. “Would you like that? I’ll let you watch me strip,” he added, cocking his head to a side slightly with the same hint of an inviting, wicked smile that he’d seen earlier in the Command Room. Though, perhaps it’s just a trick of the light, but Lucius thought that he saw a slight strain in his smile, as if he was masking something and the mask was slipping for one very brief, fleeting moment.

“Yes, I would love that,” he told Arthur, lazily, playing along. He’d mostly forgotten his minor frustration earlier, mainly because Lancer had managed to distract him, but he still wanted to talk him, if at all it was possible. Perhaps after they were finished. “Are you going to ride me after that, Lancer? I’d gladly let you have your way with me this one time.”

“I have to admit, that is a tempting option,” Arthur replied, stopping and started fingering his buttons, undoing them slowly but surely. “After all, I’d like nothing more than the chance of showing you who has a better rank in riding skill. But one thing at a time.”

Arthur certainly knows how to hold his attention, and was well-aware of the effect that he had on Lucius, since he managed to make him sit back and watch without touching him directly, as he languidly but deftly remove his clothing one by one, not merely undressing but stripping them off, clearly very much conscious of his audience of one and determined to satisfy him. 

“Is this better?” Arthur said, after he’s done, arranging himself casually—and prettily—on top of Lucius again, this time without a single thread of fabric on him. “This is how you prefer me, isn’t it? What do you want me to do now? Tell me what to do,” he demanded, pouting only a little, just the way that he liked it, and Lucius couldn’t help but feel a little spellbound, and something in his stomach fluttered again at Arthur’s gaze.

“Originally, I’d like you to ride me, but now I have something else in mind,” Lucius answered, feeling himself getting harder by the second, his hard-on pressing on the inside of his trousers urgently, distractingly, but more distracting still was Arthur, and he knows that the other man can feel it too, sitting on him like that. “Take me in your mouth, Lancer. I’d came inside you for quite a number of time now, this time, I’d like to come in your mouth.”

“Oh, I like that idea,” Arthur responded, almost airily, and it was easy to forget everything else, at this moment, although it still doesn’t feel quite right. “Yes, I’ll pleasure you with my mouth, if that is what you want, Saber.”

He knows that Lancer’s other self would possibly be revolted by this idea, of him making Lancer kneel in front of him like this soon afterwards, Arthur’s lips on his length, while he was perched on the edge of his bed. He liked looking at Arthur like this too, his green eyes quietly fierce under his lashes, his mouth busy sucking him, with a singular determination that has become so familiar now. 

“I’d say you’re better with your hands, but this isn’t so bad,” Lucius teased him, stroking Arthur’s hair lightly, before he yanked it, a bit roughly, forcing Arthur to adjust his position accordingly. “I always liked the notion of you worshipping me on your knees, after all, like the good little pet you are.”

He let out a moan, briefly, as he felt Arthur’s tongue on him, hitting just the right spot, but he managed to spare the other man a glance after that, noticing that he was flushing quite furiously and so beautifully. He can’t give him a clever retort, not like this, and so Lucius watched him, quite triumphantly, grinding his hips, lightly fucking him in the mouth at the same time.

It was a divine experience, without any doubt, perhaps the best one he’d had after he became a Servant—and arguably even before that—but still, something was amiss, and the memory of Lancer’s story and his genuine smile that afternoon weighed heavily on Lucius’ mind.

Maybe it was because of that, then, that he accidentally called him by name, in the middle of it, though it felt like something inevitable after it slipped out of his mouth and into the world, something a little bit like fate, like their accidental meeting in the hallways that day that felt like so long ago. Lucius felt Arthur froze, then, as if he’d just done something bad to him, something terrible, and, perhaps inevitably, too, he pulled away.

“Ah, I suppose it was about time,” Lucius expressed, after that, after a small, tense amount of silence had passed between them. He shrugged, lightly, nonchalantly, perfectly aware that this would happen sooner or later in their arrangement. “After all, I did ask you earlier why we need to pretend, and, we are going to ruin the farce anyway sooner or later, one way or another. Why sweat it, Arthur? I already know what happened to you now, and it doesn’t change anything, not in the slightest.”

“Yes, that is certainly something that I expect you would say,” Lancer remarked, coldly, straightening up himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And while I certainly expect you to break my terms sooner or later, considering what you’ve done up until now, I certainly did not expect you to break it this way, Emperor. But this is the last straw. I should have known better than to trust someone like you to keep your word.”

Despite his cool, nonchalant attitude, the quiet storm in his eyes says otherwise, and it was evident that Arthur was silently furious by this turn of events. But Lucius regarded him quite calmly, thinking back to the frustration he felt before, and the jarring feeling that he had when he ran into him earlier in the Command Room today, the difference between how he acted before, in his room that afternoon, and then.

The colliding image of two similar, yet different people. The light at the end. This beautiful mirage that he was trying to reach.

“I can’t deny that, it’s true, you should know better than to trust me,” Lucius finally said, meeting that furious, passionate gaze head-on. “After all, didn’t we hate each other in the past? Didn’t we fight for a different set of ideals, different empires, different vision? Did you not deal the blow that killed me? I can’t forget the light, you know, the light from your sacred sword,” he paused, noticing how his words made Lancer wince, as if he was hurting him, blow by blow, word by word. 

“But you are different, are you not? You said it yourself, that you are a ghost from the future. And now I know what you meant, I know what happened to you. That does change something, I have to admit—“ he rose from the bed, reach out to touch his face, not unkindly, and Arthur, surprisingly, let him, although he did flinch at his touch. “—something did happen between us, didn’t it? I don’t know how, but it did.”

“…no,” Arthur said, pushing his hand aside, not meeting his gaze. “That was a figment of your imagination, Lucius. I- I don’t have any feelings towards you, if that is what you are implying,” he continued, biting his bottom lip briefly. “I know you saw me as nothing more as another conquest, something you can fuck to feed your own monstrous ego. Which is why it’s ironic, to think that, for a moment, when you were holding me a couple of days back, I thought that you finally saw me as a person, recognised me as someone, although…” Arthur lifted his gaze to meet his, finally, and the look in his eyes were sharp, full of hurt. “You didn’t even see me, did you? I know that, in the shower that time, you were thinking about someone else, even when you were using me to your heart’s content. I know who you were thinking of, too. It was seriously naive of me to think that you’d ever going to see me as something other than a fuck toy.”

It was a lot to process, but this time the hurt was evident in his voice, too, and for a moment, he remembered when they were in the shower, how fragile Lancer had looked back then, and he felt…strangely concerned, but also frustrated. 

“Is that what you seriously think, Arthur? Even after I told you that something did happen between us?” Lucius expressed, staring at him incredulously. “Do you even realise how ridiculous you sound, or is that what you so desperately wanted to believe?”

“Perhaps, and I hate to admit that I still want you,” Arthur said in response, shooting him a dirty look. “But before that, I know I’m right, anyway, since you did not deny it, or even try to defend yourself.”

He had to laugh at the absurdity of that, but Arthur silenced him with a kiss, and he kissed him back, reflexively, pulling him closer. He does want him, still, even if Lancer frustrated him, and he still felt good, too, his bare skin pressed against his body. 

“You can call me ridiculous all you want, and yes, I’m fine with you seeing me as merely a distraction,” Arthur said, after the kiss, though Lucius kissed him again, pulling him closer by the hair. “This is the last time, since you did broke our deal, but I still want you.”

“No, my love, you are not merely a distraction,” Lucius told him, with a chuckle, pushing him to his bed. He touched his cheek again, momentarily, caressing it, committing how Arthur looked at that moment to memory. “You, Arthur, are a mirage. You disappeared every time I tried to get close to you. But I know you are real, and you know it, somewhere deep inside of you. Yes, you—“ he kissed him, lightly, once on the cheek, and then on the lips, “—are a mirage, the most beautiful one of them all.”

Arthur’s expression was one of naked surprise, more bare than he’d ever seen him before, unmistakably human, lending his eyes and features a new light, but evidently, he tried to hold on to his infuriation, because he pulled him close, roughly, and the violent kiss he gave him tells Lucius that this, too, was something that he would rather forget, or, specifically, something he would rather pretend never happened.

He didn’t think much of anything else, then, as they busied themselves with each other, as it always been.

* * *

He doesn’t keep track anymore of how much time passed after that. It could be a week, it could be two weeks, it could even be in the span of a couple of days, but he did notice that the season is waning, and the atmosphere in Chaldea changed, in anticipation of autumn. He may be moved, generally, by the caprice of his own whims and emotions, but at the same time, he was good at hiding certain kind of feelings, although, there is an itch he could not quite scratch, the itch of a loose end left untied, a conquest left unfinished, business left unresolved.

It bothered Lucius, this—he might have mixed feelings still about the Arthur that he knows in the past, but Lancer is a whole different matter altogether, and day by day, it felt as if he was the one who got away. Lancer’s cape sits, still, in the bottom of his drawer, hidden but not too carefully amidst other stuff, various trinkets that he’d come to collect so far from his missions and the like, red like sunset, or war, or memories he was trying to forget.

Perhaps he did try looking for him, once or twice, but it was an unsuccessful campaign. He had no idea how a place as small as Chaldea (relatively speaking) could feel so big when he’s trying to find a specific person, but perhaps he just wasn’t looking in all the right places.

Then, it was just his luck when, one evening, he returned to his room and found Lancer there, sitting on a chair in the corner. Lucius felt quite speechless for a moment, surprised as he was, though he felt a flood of other emotions as well, emotions that he did not care to name.

“Oh, you’re back,” Arthur said, after a reasonable amount of awkward silence. He was in something resembling a casual outfit this time, although on him, even a simple dark blue button-up shirt and black trousers still looked sophisticated, as if he’d just returned from a party. It looks like he was reading something—or busying himself while he waited—from one of the high-tech things Lucius had seen but never actually used, a tablet or something like that. “This is, um…”

Arthur seemed to be at a loss of words, just as he was, and he stared at him awkwardly for a bit, waiting for him to say something. This is certainly uncharacteristic of Lancer, who always seem to be so composed.

“You want me to return your cape?” Lucius asked, not entirely serious. He still wasn’t sure how he feels, not only at the current situation, but also at Arthur, and he was trying to divert his attention in some way.

“No, not really, I mean, yes, but…” he trailed off, blushing a little, before letting out a frustrated sigh. He pushed his tablet aside and rose from his seat. “I- I think we do need to talk.”

“So you’d admit that I’m right,” Lucius smugly said, can’t help but push Lancer’s buttons a bit, still. 

“Not really, I came to that conclusion myself with no thanks to you,” Arthur countered, scowling for a bit. “But perhaps, this one time. Only this once. Yes, we need to talk, and I think…I owe you an explanation. And an apology.”

“Go on, then,” Lucius said, shrugging off his coat, sorely tempted to continue teasing him after hearing the word apology, but decided that he doesn’t want Arthur to go running back to his shell. He did want to hear what he had to say. “I’m all ears.”

“First, an explanation. You asked me why I wanted to pretend…to keep on pretending,” Arthur started, and Lucius sat himself on his bed, watching, curiously, as the other man fidgeted for a bit. “I need that because the past is too much of a burden, a burden I wanted to forget but couldn’t, especially every time I looked at you, and it was hard for me to continue doing what we were doing with it hovering above my head. Surely you understand by now, since you said that you know what happened, why I wanted to forget.”

He opened his mouth to voice a question, something else that’s been nagging him, but Arthur cuts him off with a look.

“Yes, I know, you must have thought that I am ridiculous, since I could very well avoid getting into this situation in the first place, or that I could terminate our arrangement at any given moment if it doesn’t suit me any longer. But…” he trailed off, looking down for a bit, swallowed nervously before he continued. “Yes, I suppose I am selfish. At least, I wanted to be, that once, in the simulator room, after we spar together. You must know by now, that, in a sense, I nearly become a Divine Spirit. But even before then, I never had much freedom to choose. I gave it up, when I pulled the Sword of Selection from the stone. You’ve always been a selfish person, Lucius, and a tyrant besides, so you must not be able to understand why I chose what I chose, or why I feel this way.”

“Your insults are unwarranted, but I’m feeling gracious enough to let you continue,” he teased, with an amused smile, as Arthur shot him an annoyed look. “Yes, do carry on, Arthur.”

“Well, what I’m trying to say is that I wanted to do what I truly wanted, just once, but look where it got me,” Lancer continued, with a dark smile, but it quickly disappeared. “I followed my whim. I give my human side a chance. The first person who treated me like a person, a human being, is Master. Before that, I was just a ghost, even as a Heroic Spirit. But then you…” he sighed, deeply, shaking his head slightly, and Lucius realised that he was holding his breath. “That night, in the shower, I was having my doubts about this entire thing. I don’t like that it makes me feel guilty. But yes, I wanted you still, since you could distract me, but then I saw that look in your eyes afterwards. You were thinking of someone else. You didn’t even see me. Not even as a ghost, much less as a person, just…an extension of someone who is still haunting you.”

“No, that is not something that I cannot deny, although things have changed, and I can tell you that in complete honesty,” Lucius told him, evenly. “But you’re not done yet, aren’t you?”

“No, not yet,” Arthur shook his head. “I tried to convince myself to leave afterwards, but I can’t stop. I don’t think I can, and it was bothering me too. I managed to convince myself, though, on the notion that I could accept that, and that, even if you could never see me as not merely an iteration of my Saber counterpart that you can touch, I would be fine with that, or at least, I had just managed to convince myself that,” he paused, evidently trying to gauge Lucius’ reaction, but he simply motioned him to continue. “But you just had to ask me about my favourite dinner menu, a ridiculous question, though at that moment, it felt as if you’d finally seen me as someone else, a different person. A human. And I hate it because it’s coming from _you_, out of all people. Yes, when it comes down to it, I think I still detest you, at least for the most part.”

The candor in it was so refreshing, so unexpected and yet something that he should probably had expected beforehand, and Lucius couldn’t help but burst out laughing. 

“Do you seriously hate me all that much? Even after you nearly became a god yourself? And here I thought you were finally able to see my point of view, Arthur,” he told him, but only half-seriously, enjoying the dirty look Lancer shot him.

“That is something we’re going to have to discuss another time, Lucius, but to answer your question, yes, I do detest you all that much,” Arthur stated, matter-of-factly, but he was hesitating to continue, briefly, afterwards, and a light blush dyed his cheeks red, almost as red as the cape that Lucius still kept. “But also, no, not really. I don’t know, I’m not sure. It’s complicated. That aside…you said that…something did happen between us. I thought…I just thought…yes, quite possibly, that is the case,” he admitted, averting his gaze, evidently embarrassed by this. “I can’t stop thinking…no, I don’t actually want you to act like nothing has happened, after you held me in your arms. But I don’t know how to say it, and I don’t know how to face it yet, when you confronted me in the Command Room. So I thought, I misleadingly believed that, all you wanted was something else.”

He rose from his seat on the bed and made his way to him. He touched Arthur’s cheek, again, not unkindly, prompting the other man to look at him.

“And do you still believe that?” Lucius asked, his gaze never leaving Arthur’s. “Do you still truly believe that, after this, Arthur Pendragon, my beautiful mirage, the owner of my heart?”

“I- I don’t know. I’m not sure,” Arthur muttered, suddenly seem to lose his command on words. “I at least owe you an apology. I apologise.”

“Well, you did cause me some amount of frustration, since it is apparently very hard to convince you. You truly are a stubborn one. However,” he added, with a certain emphasis, savouring the quiet question in Arthur’s gaze, before he closed the distance between them by pulling him into an embrace. “I won’t let anyone say that I am not a gracious, merciful emperor. Consider your apology accepted.”

“…isn’t this where you were supposed to apologise too?” Arthur expressed, after that, though, Lucius noted triumphantly, that he returned the embrace, hesitatingly wrapped his arms around him. “You did make me feel horrible, you know. Or are you actually that insufferable, Lucius, and that I’m supposed to regret this?”

“Yes, well, we were getting to it,” Lucius laughed, patting his head affectionately for a bit. He did miss their old difference in height, but even now, even after knowing for certain that Lancer and Saber are two different people, two divergent paths, he still felt that something about Arthur did not change. “You are still you, after all. As for an apology, yes, I suppose I’m feeling magnanimous as well, since Rome’s generosity is boundless, so in a manner of speaking, I apologised. Especially for not treating you the way you deserved to be treated.”

“Was that really supposed to be an apology?” Arthur remarked, pulling away slightly, giving him an incredulous look. “You do know what an apology is, don’t you? But if that is the best that you can do, Emperor, then I would have little choice but to accept,” he sighed, shaking his head, again, but buried his face in Lucius’ shoulder anyway, for a moment. “I hate you. I really do. I hate you even more now since I chose to trust you with the truth and you gave me not even a half-baked apology,” he paused, clearly more than a little hesitant to continue. “I haven’t trusted anyone, not in a long time, not really.”

“Yes, Arthur, as a matter of fact, I know what an apology is, and I’m not really done yet,” he told him, absently reach out to tousle his neat golden hair, no crown this time, letting out a small laugh when Arthur shot him an annoyed look that has become a staple during their interactions. “But you still have something to say. Do continue. I’m still listening.”

“…my last moments,” Arthur said, after a small amount of silence, turning his face to a side to avoid his gaze, but Lucius didn’t look away, instead looked at him expectantly, curiously, because he knows that Arthur was about to impart something important to him, a secret that he’d been clutching closer than his own heartbeat all this time. It was a show of great trust, and he felt the now-familiar flutter in his stomach, again. “Or at least, it was supposed to be, for me. I think it was different, for my Saber self. But, regardless…I was alone. I was with someone I had trusted even more than I trust myself, but he was nowhere to be seen. I gave him a task, the last great task, yet he failed to do so. As a result, I failed to attain peace, and I was alone, for a decade, even more so than I had ever been before. I have always been alone, but it was different. Yes, it was…” he trailed off, looking at him now but not really, a man haunted, and Lucius fleetingly remembered his figure, in the Command Room, all alone, the last person at the end of the world. “Unbearable.”

“I know,” Lucius started, after he let Arthur’s words sink in for a bit, choosing his words carefully this time. “I know, after I heard the story from Master, that you must be in great pain, Arthur, which is ironic, considering who delivered my own last moment. I am the wrong man to go to, if you wanted words of comfort, or sympathy, and you know, in life, what kind of man I am. But, I told you, I’m not done with my apology, and I do want to say this: you will never feel alone again,” he cupped Arthur’s face, pressed a kiss on his cheek, not unkindly, pulling him into another embrace afterwards. “Not if I can help it. Youalready know by now that I am a gracious emperor, and there is nothing I would not do for the ones who had proven themselves to be worthy, and you, my love, have proven yourself to be more than that. I would treat you lavishly, and more besides.”

Before Arthur could respond, Lucius had lifted him off his feet—he was a lot lighter now, it seems, in this casual getup—and smiled at him, smugly, liking, too, how he felt, nestled in his arms, like a bride, appropriately blushing, and he thought, satisfyingly to himself that yes, something about Arthur seemed to never change.

“Wh- what exactly are you doing?” Lancer demanded, and he had to laugh, enjoying the adorable look of embarrassment on his face. “It’s all well and good, but you should really put me down, you stupid emperor.”

He did set him down, gently, on his bed, climbing beside him so he could put his arms around him, like that night, and Arthur still felt warm and nice, his back pressed to his chest, as he absently ran his fingers through his hair.

“Now I insist that you should stay, and we can pick up our conversation where we left it, that afternoon, about your favourite dinner menu,” Lucius said, feeling Arthur shift closer to him. “I don’t take no as an answer. Yes, I think you can start by telling me all about yourself, starting from there. Go on, you can start.”

“You’re seriously daft, and insufferable besides, and I sincerely, very much hate you, Lucius,” Arthur responded, and he had to laugh, again, pressing a light kiss on his cheek, and turn him around, so he could kiss his nose, too. “And yes, yes, before you could cleverly counter with the question of who is more daft, since I’m still here, I probably am, and I hate that. I also hate that I’m starting to like you. Just a little.”

It felt sweeter than victory, sweeter than the thrill of battle, sweeter than anything he’d ever experienced—before he became a Servant and now—to hear him admit that, even with a scowl, though that, too, was part of Lancer’s charm, and he kissed him, softly, on the lips, like it was the first time, and it felt better than anything else they’d done together.

“I like me, too, but yes, I like you too, Arthur. You’re adorable, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything,” he told him, and Arthur already opened his mouth to protest, but Lucius silenced him with another kiss, and it felt like, maybe—the thought fluttered in his mind for a moment—like a new beginning, a little like light, not at the end of the world, not like the one he’d seen before it was all over, back then, but like dawn, heralding the arrival of a new day. 

It was beautiful, and sublime, and he doesn’t know where this will take them, after this moment had passed, but for the first time, he doesn’t mind not having control over the situation, because he had attained the beautiful mirage he’d sought after, at last, and did indeed prove that it was real. 

That was, at least for the moment, more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> <strike>yes I can say that Bunny Boy Lancer Arthur & casino owner Lucius is a real AU now</strike> I mean, thanks for reading! Comments & suggestions are welcome, as always <3


End file.
